


All Books from The Elder Scrolls Online: Morrowind

by TheOneRulingNerevarRing



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-16 19:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 66
Words: 19,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16501214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneRulingNerevarRing/pseuds/TheOneRulingNerevarRing
Summary: Just as the title say'sThis is the 5th part in my completion of making a complete collection of all Elder Scroll's books to date.





	1. 36 Lessons of Vivec: Sermon 37

You have discovered the thirty-seventh Sermon of Vivec, which is a bending of the light, long past the chronicles of the Hortator who wore inconstant faces and ruled however they would, until apocalypse.

Vivec was borne by ribbons of water, which wrote their starward couplings in red. This was a new place of speed. His eyes broke on the spikes above the tower, where the Void Ghost squatted over a drake-scaled drum, imbecile in its rhythm. And he asked of it:

"Who are you, that need no signature at all?"

Three in sum, the robes of Ayem stretched towards the bright black rim of memory, roping an arc of purchase. This was a new sprinting task. And Seht held his swollen belly to its name, clockmaker's daughter, swimming the dead confession along a century of thread, Naming her, uneaten, a golden cache of Veloth and Velothi, for where else would they know to go?

"Go here: world without wheel, charting zero deaths, and echoes singing," Seht said, until all of it was done, and in the center was anything whatever.

And the red moment became a great howling unchecked, for the Provisional House was in ruin. And Vivec became as glass, a lamp, for the dragon's mane had broke, and the red moon bade him come.

"The sign of royalty is not this," a signal blueshift (female) told him, "There is no right lesson learned alone."

He refused the twine on her catching net, spiteful that an uncontinued people would not become fuller by their searching, and yet were wracked in their spirits for flight. But the male signals were offended, and Vivec took a fighting form. He undid his eastern light, saying to the ALMSIVI that through war, they had become brides in glass, which no power could observe.

The light bent, and Vivec donned a cuirass made of red plates of jewel, and a mask that marked him born in the lands of Man. Wheeling, he spread into an insect salve, worn on the neck of hist-bulbs when at challenge. He roared up and fed his fingers to mammoth ghosts. The signal fires wondered if they mistook this for surrender, for Vivec had told the void that he could learn to undo it all.

The light bent, and somewhere a history was finally undone. Of it, Vivec remembered the laughing of the netchimen of his village when the hunts were good. He marched with his father in the ash, growing strong in the hooks and sail, able to run a junk through silt. At eleven, he sung to an ashkhan. He became sick after Red Mountain, with the nix-blood and fever, and was infirm a hundred years. His mother survived him and laid his body at the altar of Padhome. She gave him her skin to wear into the underworld.

The light bent, and Vivec awoke and grew fangs, unwilling to make of herself a folding thing. This was a new and lunar promise. And in her Biting she tunneled up and then downward, while her brother and sister smeared across heaven, thin ruptures of dissent, food for scarabs and the Worm. She took her people and made them safe, and sat with Azura drawing her own husband's likeness in the dirt.

"For I have removed my left hand and my right, he will say," she said, "for that is how I shall win against them. Love alone and you shall know only mistakes of salt."

The worlding of the words is AMARANTH.


	2. Ancestral Tombs of the Thirty Revered Families

\- Andas Ancestral Tomb  
\- Aran Ancestral Tomb  
\- Arano Ancestral Tomb  
\- Arenim Ancestral Tomb  
\- Favel Ancestral Tomb  
\- Ginith Ancestral Tomb  
\- Heran Ancestral Tomb  
\- Hlervu Ancestral Tomb  
\- Ieneth Ancestral Tomb  
\- Lleran Ancestral Tomb  
\- Maren Ancestral Tomb  
\- Nerano Ancestral Tomb  
\- Norvayn Ancestral Tomb  
\- Othrelas Ancestral Tomb X  
\- Raviro Ancestral Tomb  
\- Redas Ancestral Tomb  
\- Releth Ancestral Tomb  
\- Rethandus Ancestral Tomb  
\- Sadryon Ancestral Tomb  
\- Salothran Ancestral Tomb  
\- Sarano Ancestral Tomb  
\- Seran Ancestral Tomb  
\- Serano Ancestral Tomb  
\- Telvayn Ancestral Tomb  
\- Tharys Ancestral Tomb  
\- Thelas Ancestral Tomb  
\- Uveran Ancestral Tomb  
\- Velas Ancestral Tomb  
\- Verelnim Ancestral Tomb  
\- Venim Ancestral Tomb

When all of the rubbings are collected from the tombs, the location of the lost Library of Andule shall be revealed. Return to the Library of Vivec and the final stage of the discovery can begin.

—Librarian Bradyn


	3. Ancestral Tombs of Vvardenfell

Ancestral tombs occupy a prominent place in the culture and society of the Great Houses of the Dark Elves. The old, established families, specifically those with the most wealth and influence, constructed tombs in which to inter and honor their dead. These tombs, scattered throughout Vvardenfell, provide a place of sanctuary for the physical remains of the departed, as well as a place of contemplation, reverence, and meditation for the descendants of their interred ancestors.

Inside the tombs, burial urns hold the cremated remains of the dead, while ritual altars and items of significance to the departed decorate the interior spaces, including beloved tomes, sacred scrolls, and mementos of well-lived lives, such as jewelry, armor, weapons, household goods, and even gold. Tombs range from large, spacious vaults with multiple chambers to small vaults with a single burial chamber.

Some ancestral tombs are sealed for any number of reasons, but the usual justification boils down to one of two situations: Either the tomb in question has reached its capacity, or the family has decided to seal the tomb to protect the contents. In the case of the latter, the seal will be broken and the tomb opened the next time a member of the family dies. Then it gets resealed after the interment is complete.

The ancestral tombs that remain open often see activity on a regular basis. Many families regularly visit to pay respects to their ancestors, to meditate, or to perform important rites connected to the aspects of ancestor worship that remain integral to Dark Elf culture. If the families responsible for these tombs must occasionally petition the Tribunal or hire mercenaries to clear out a vampire nest or stray Daedric creature, such is the cost of maintaining an ancestral tomb.


	4. Anthology of Available Abodes

I have detailed herein the general location and value of most of the homes and rooms in Tamriel. To seek out property without such a guide is a firm misstep. But fear not, for I have done the heavy lifting for you!

For the thrifty, one can purchase a modest inn room. These three were recently put on the market, and may serve as a quality starter home:

Mara's Kiss Public House in Vulkhel Guard, Auridon  
The Rosy Lion in Daggerfall, Glenumbra  
The Ebony Flask Inn Room in Ebonheart, Stonefalls

If one has more than a few coins to rub together, there are larger apartments available for the vagrant hoping to become a respectable citizen. These include:

Barbed Hook Private Room in Skywatch, Auridon  
Sisters of the Sands Apartment in Sentinel, Alik'r Desert  
Flaming Nix Deluxe Garret in Mournhold, Deshaan

The following properties are for serious buyers only. Letters of credit will not be accepted for their sale, no matter whose cousin you know:

Black Vine Villa  
Humblemud  
Snugpod  
Captain Margaux's Place  
Kragenhome  
Cyrodilic Jungle House  
Moonmirth House  
Autumn's-Gate  
Hammerdeck End  
Twin Arches

For those with loftier aspirations and more possessions, you may wish to examine these properties:

Cliffshade  
The Ample Domicile  
Bouldertree Refuge  
Ravenhurst  
Velothi Reverie  
Domus Phrasticus  
Sleek Creek House  
Grymharth's Woe  
Mournoth Keep  
House of the Silent Magnifico

Nobility and the like will find the following properties the most acceptable, as they usually provide quarters for servants or livestock:

Mathiisen Manor  
Stay-Moist Mansion  
The Gorinir Estate  
Gardner House  
Quondam Indorilia  
Strident Springs Demesne  
Dawnshadow  
Old Mistveil Manor  
Forsaken Stronghold  
Hunding's Palatial Hall

I have only seen these properties from the outer gates, as most of their owners are of a private disposition. A purchaser would find themselves within a new echelon of society in a fortnight:

Serenity Falls Estate  
Daggerfall Overlook  
Ebonheart Chateau


	5. The Archcanon's Journal

Twenty-sixth Day of Construction  
With Lord Vivec's Blessing Stones, the building of this great city proceeds rapidly. Lord Vivec's Palace and the First Canton near completion, and foundations for the other Cantons have already been laid.

Thirty-fifth Day of Construction  
Unexpected delays on the fourth Canton. Despite Lord Vivec's Blessings, accidents continue to pile up. I have had stern words with the Overseer, but she seems honestly mystified. Will send some Armigers to investigate.

Fortieth Day of Construction  
The Armigers can uncover no reason for the continuing delays. One reports seeing a large dog up on one of the supports just before the collapse that injured four workers. Others dismiss that as impossible—how would a dog climb the rails?—but I have my suspicions. Still, no reason to bother Lord Vivec.

Forty-second Day of Construction  
The delays become more serious. I can tell even Lord Vivec, as patient a god as one could hope for, grows concerned. I think it's time I investigate on my own. Forty-third Day of Construction Standing on the construction Canton, I felt the Blessings of Lord Vivec wash over me. I marvel at the feeling of his love and protection. It is no wonder the workers strive so hard at their jobs.

But then, almost like a cloud passing between Tamriel and the sun, it was gone. I could tell the workers and the guards felt it, too, though they certainly took it more as a sense of unease. Just as I was about to say something, I heard a crash. I looked over, and one of the lift-ropes had broken, causing two tons of stone to fall and shatter. It is a wonder no one was killed.

As I ran to help the injured, I swear by Vivec's mighty presence I saw a large dog scamper away. I think my suspicions are confirmed. But whether to go after the dog or report to Vivec immediately—that is the choice I must make. Perhaps after a good night's sleep I will have a clearer idea of how to proceed.


	6. Archcanon Tarvus Interview

This month's Tribunal Temple Profile shines a bright light on our own high priest in the service of Lord Vivec—Archcanon Tarvus! Yours truly, Seventy-sixth Adjuvant Drumara, sat down to interview the busy cleric in his well-appointed office in the Hall of Wisdom, in the canton directly across from Vivec's Palace in Vivec City.

Adjuvant Drumara: Thank you for agreeing to talk with me, Archcanon. The faithful who regularly read our weekly missives have been asking to learn more about the Dunmer who keeps the Temple and the city running smoothly.

Archcanon Tarvus: Lord Vivec and the Tribunal keep the wheels turning. I am merely their servant.

Adjuvant Drumara: Modest, as always! How did you find your way to a life of religious service?

Archcanon Tarvus: I grew up in House Indoril, so while a role in the Temple wasn't guaranteed, it was certainly strongly encouraged. I found that the words of the Warrior-Poet moved me, and I quickly gravitated toward serving Lord Vivec. Here's a secret few people know—I almost dedicated myself to the Buoyant Armigers. The call to adventure appealed to my younger self, and I even fancied myself something of a poet. Lord Vivec, however, had other plans for me.

Adjuvant Drumara: So it's true that Lord Vivec himself recruited you into his priesthood?

Archcanon Tarvus: Let's not make the story more significant than the reality. I was a young acolyte, training for a life of service in the Temple. When the time came to choose a path, Lord Vivec talked to me and suggested I would do better in the priesthood than as a swashbuckling Armiger or a militaristic Ordinator. I meditated on my choice and discovered, deep in my heart, that I agreed with him.

Adjuvant Drumara: And then you demonstrated a real talent for both spiritual and administrative labors, rising to become the youngest canon ever to attain the rank of archcanon?

Archcanon Tarvus: Young? I suppose so. But that was so long ago. I worked hard, constantly demonstrating my devotion to Vivec, the Three, and the people of Morrowind. That Lord Vivec saw fit to reward me with this honor and this responsibility, well, you'd have to ask him why I of all the canons was ultimately selected to replace my predecessor. I am just grateful for the opportunity to help my Lord and serve my Temple.

Adjuvant Drumara: Your sermons on the dangers of outlanders in Vvardenfell can be quite stirring. Do you think our land really faces a threat from those who come with different cultures and beliefs?

Archcanon Tarvus: For a minor priest and functionary, you tend to ask leading questions. My views on outlanders, however, are quite well known and completely consistent. No one other than the Dark Elves can claim such a unique relationship as we have with our Living Gods. That gives us a perspective and outlook on life that is, in fact, superior to every other culture in Tamriel. We are stronger when we are pure, when our culture isn't polluted by the thoughts and ideas of the lesser peoples. But other than that, I have nothing against the occasional outlander visiting our fair and beautiful island of Vvardenfell. "To challenge the strange allows us to know our strength," as the Warrior-Poet has written.

Adjuvant Drumara: One of your closest aides, Canon Llevule Andrano, has been quoted as saying that you "carry the burden of Lord Vivec and the entire palace atop your shoulders." Do you agree with his assessment?

Archcanon Tarvus: Is it a burden to serve the Warrior-Poet? Is it an obligation to make sure the business of the palace and the Temple and the city progresses smoothly and without stumble? I do what I do for my love of the Tribunal and its people. That is not a burden, Adjuvant Drumara, that is a rare and singular privilege! I do my best to instill that same attitude in all of the priests that serve under my administration. You would do well to remember that, as I am quite certain you fit into that category.

Adjuvant Drumara: Of course, Archcanon Tarvus. I simply asked so that I could quote you accurately. May I ask one more question before we conclude this interview?

Archcanon Tarvus: If you must.

Adjuvant Drumara: How is the work on Vivec City coming along?

Archcanon Tarvus: Construction on Lord Vivec's metropolis proceeds just as the Warrior-Poet has commanded. The cantons take shape like islands in the bay. The ziggurats rise as though to touch Baar Dau itself. It is already a masterpiece, and it is not yet nearly half done! Vivec City is already the envy of every other nation in Tamriel. Imagine the accolades we shall receive as it nears completion! Now, if we're done here, I have the business of Lord Vivec to get back to.


	7. Arowende's Diary

Page 23  
Finally, Archmagister Otheri has let me accompany him to Mzanchend—the great Dwemer ruin that rests under the mine. I would love to discover something really unique. Or discover what happened to the Dwarves! I need to make some sketches of some of the architecture here. The light fixtures … unbelievable. So many still working. How did they do it? That might be a good subject for some scholarly research.

I know his machine is important, He's droned on about it and then told me to be careful with these greasy bits of it, acting as if it was an honor for me to toddle after him with them. Well, perhaps it is. I did, after all, manage to get the position as his assistant. I wonder what happened to the last assistant.

This grease better come out of my robe.

Page 26  
I suppose I should be understanding that the Archmagister is too preoccupied with his experiments and such a important a personage within House Telvanni, but he just dumps tasks on me and wanders off.

It's not that I can't immobilize these dwemer constructs but would it be nice if he waited for me. Why didn't he turn his talents to coming up with a way to make them turn off? Be non-aggressive? I'm not quite sure how you'd go about it, but that too may be a fruitful avenue of study.

I just need to take in as much knowledge as I can from the Archmagister. I do long to go home to Summerset, but I promised myself I wouldn't until I was more knowledgeable than—well, I should not go down that route again. I'll just sit here and let my magic restore itself.

I will need to find an alchemist though. These machine parts have definitely stained this robe.


	8. Ashlander Tribes and Customs

The Dunmeri nomads known as the Ashlanders wander Morrowind's wildness, going where they will and doing what they please. Free of the strictures that both provide structure and a high degree of rigidity for the Great Houses, they organize in loose tribes and harken back to an earlier time in Dark Elf history. They subsist as herder-hunters and find simple pleasures in a more natural lifestyle.

Ashlanders revere their ancestors and worship Daedra, refusing to acknowledge the divinity of the Living Gods of the Tribunal. They occasionally trade with other tribes and even with the Great Houses, exchanging guar hides and shalk resin for news of the wider world and goods they can't easily acquire in the wild. Within their nomadic society, the Ashlanders are courteous, proper, and polite. When dealing with outsiders, though, they can become easily offended.

Tribal leaders, called ashkhans, serve as the "warrior-protector" of the community they lead. Second in command is the gulakhan, who serves as the voice of the tribe in matters of trade and negotiations. Outsiders will do well to approach the gulakhan first, before attempting to seek an audience with the ashkhan. Each tribe also has a wise-woman, a farseer who keeps the songs, lore, and prophecy of the tribe. She is the spiritual leader of the tribe. The rest of the tribe stands as equals, sharing responsibilities as they hunt, herd, forage, and otherwise support each other.

The nomads are organized into four primary tribes.

The Ahemmusa tribe resides in the southern coastal regions and swamplands of Vvardenfell. In years past, they traveled from coast to coast fishing and hunting, but more recently have largely been pushed out into the Bitter Coast region as Telvanni and Redoran settlements spring up around their former grounds. The Ahemmusa are among the most peaceful of Ashlander tribes and the weakest in terms of amassing any sort of warband. They wear light clothing, often adorned with small shells, scales and even netting. Their weapons are more like tools, simple knives and spears they can use to work as well as defend themselves if need be. They prefer to keep to themselves and be left alone, living out their lives hunting, herding, and especially fishing. They have a small, semi-permanent settlement currently along the Bitter Coast where they live off the fish and other local wildlife in the swamplands.

The Erabenimsun tribe resides in the Molag Amur region of Vvardenfell, and are as dour and dangerous as the volcanic ashlands they hail from. The Erabenimsun are quite war-loving. They are seen as greedy and cruel by their fellow Ashlanders and are believed to not have respect for many Ashlander customs. They care little about prophecy, history, and lore, so the Wise Woman has little power in this tribe. Erabenimsun are also typically the most heavily armed and armored. They are warriors first and foremost, valuing strength above all else.

The Urshilaku tribe is the most highly respected tribe and the second most populous. They reside in the West Gash region and the northern Ashlands, which, like the Grazelands, is considered prime hunting and foraging land. But more than its many hunters, warriors, and herders, Urshilaku is famed for its lore-keepers. It is the only tribe that currently has multiple Farseers, and the Wise-Woman of Urshilaku is widely renowned. Urshilaku has been key in ushering in a temporary age of peace among the Ashlander tribes, for all are listening when the oracles speak of an age of coming strife that the tribes must prepare for. In particular, it is the Urshilaku tribe that keeps faith that Nerevar Incarnate will return soon to unite the people. Urshilaku are some of the only Ashlanders to occasionally use magic. More common than actual spell-weaving is enchanting and alchemy, at which they are highly skilled. They are also the tribe most interested in ancient relics, scrolls, and other items one might find in the ruins dotting Vvardenfell. Bringing them such things is one way to gain favor with this tribe.

The most populous tribe, the proud and confident Zainab resides in the fertile Grazelands region of northeast Vvardenfell. Like the Ahemmusa, they are surprisingly peaceable and friendly even to outlanders, although they are somewhat greedy and arrogant as well. Zainab is, in a way, the oddest of the tribes in that they follow the old ways, but they are extremely interested in the change that has overtaken Vvardenfell. They freely trade with the Great Houses, and some have even sought to forge more firm business deals with Houses like Hlaalu. All in all, one gets the impression that Zainab is the most willing to adapt, even if they will not entirely leave their Ashlander lifestyle behind. Zainab possesses the most diverse collection of goods, including their arms and armor. They typically trade for goods instead of crafting them, and they are well known for harvesting, foraging, and mining in the rich Grazelands, which has led to their unrivaled prosperity.


	9. Assassin's Orders

Our work is almost complete. Remain watchful. With any luck, the adventurer I conscripted will clean out the remaining stone abominations so we can begin again—this time, without Benar mucking things up. Tie off all loose ends and make sure it looks like they killed each other. It needs to be convincing enough for the Council.

When your work is done, meet me at my residence in Balmora. I'll have further instructions for you, and your first payment, as promised. This will to be a lucrative endeavor, my dear. Don't fail me.

M


	10. Ballad of Dranoth Hleran

With fearsome claws, Skar did attack  
Protected by his stone hard shell  
That none could even dent or crack  
By the beast's might our armies fell

But one brave hero held no fear  
Dranoth Hleran, warrior brave  
With Calderas, his mighty spear  
But one resounding cry he gave

He raised his spear to the beast  
He ran, evading every blow  
His heart was set, his speed increased  
As he charged the mighty foe

With a final thrust, a final clash  
At last the mighty Skar was slain  
With honor gifted to his House  
May Hleran's glory never wane


	11. Bandit's Letter

That stupid Khajiit's initial crop was decent enough. Because of it we were able plant a larger crop in the creek bed after finally getting the area free of those insipid nix-hounds—only to be utterly overwhelmed by fetcherflies a few days later.

It seems that reducing the nix-hound population has somehow increased the fetcherfly population. Either that or a fabled fetcherfly hive golem was able to form in here somewhere. If I would have known this previously, I would never have agreed to that Dark Elf woman's bribe.

When Rathal and the other two useless morons get back from exploring the western cavern for more of that stupid Khajiit's research, I may put together a fetcherfly hunting party. Try to rid these caves of these blasted pests and their constant annoyances.


	12. Barilzar's Hirelings

Leona Blasio: Imperial, well-educated, kind of a snob, but she knows her way around a Dwemer ruin!

Snorfin: Burly, obnoxious Nord with a surprising knack for locating rare and unusual items. You really can't judge a bell by its chimes!

Volrina Quarra: Imperial, studied with both Narsis Dren and myself for a time before becoming a free agent. Now she works alongside her brother. Someday she might challenge my superior intellect, but not quite yet.

Dwemer Components: I need the following Dwarven components to build a tonal inverter.

Sonance Generator: A sound-producing engine of Dwarven design.

Inversion Conduit: A negatively charged plate to transpose the flow of energy.

Manual Clockwork Shaft: A complex Dwarven crank for making gears rotate and pistons operate.


	13. Black Snails Shipping Notice

Attention Black Snails:

Shipments and correspondence arrive on the tide. All outgoing freight, crew, and mail must be present and counted on Selvil Island one hour prior to tide's ebb. No exceptions. Direct any questions or complaints to your direct superior.

Captain Nisimal


	14. Blessed Almalexia's Fables for Afternoon

The Crow and the Netch

One day a curious crow decided to fly farther than he ever flew before. He flew and flew and finally came upon a creature that he found very strange.

"Friend!" he called as he flew by the creature. "Friend, what is it that you are? I have never seen a flying beast such as you!"

"They call me a netch," the good netch replied.

"A netch! A netch! That's quite the catch!" the crow cackled. "Tell me, netch, how is it that you fly?"

"I've flown these shores since I was born," the netch replied. "I do not know how."

"Don't know, don't' know, oh what a show!" the crow called out. "Where are your glossy feathers that help you glide?"

"I have no need of feathers to glide," the netch explained, "but I have a strong, thick hide to protect me."

"A hide! A hide! Oh, what a find," the crow mocked. "Tell me netch, where are your eyes?"

"I need no eyes to sail the skies, as you can plainly see," the netch once more replied.

"No eyes, no eyes, to sail the skies!" the prideful crow continued. "But it makes you far uglier than I!" And he began to laugh at the netch's misfortune.

The crow's laughter grew louder and louder, eventually attracting a nearby cliff-racer. The beast swooped down upon the crow, swallowing him whole, and he could mock the netch no more.

The netch simply sighed and said, "Mocking others is for naught, for none can change their own weakness."

* * *

The Gifted Guar

One day a farmer decided to give his daughter a gift. She had started a family of her own, and he wished good fortune for her. He chose his finest guar and brought it to his daughter's new home.

His daughter was delighted at this gift, but her husband only glared.

"You didn't even let us choose?" the husband asked angrily. "What if this guar is sick, or old, or weak? I must at least inspect it before it's left in our care!"

The daughter tried to calm her husband, but the farmer simply nodded and said, "You may examine this guar as you see fit."

The husband inspected every inch of the guar, even forcing the beast to open its mighty jaws to look at the state of its teeth.

"Well, it will have to do," the husband conceded, though he knew it was a fine guar indeed.

The farmer stroked his chin. "You know, I think you're right. You should be able to pick whichever guar you wish. I know there's plenty for sale in the local market."

The husband simply gaped as his father-in-law walked back home, guar in hand.

His wife slapped her husband's arm and told him, "You fool! Never look a gift guar in the mouth!"

* * *

The Child of the Councilor

One summer's day, a councilor was walking along the market in her splendid regalia, attended by her many servants. She was so splendid that a small mer in the crowd told his mother, "I wish my mother was a councilor, instead of you!"

The little mer never expected the councilor to hear him, nor did he expect her to turn toward him in the crowd.

"I have heard your wish, little one, and I accept," she told the open-mouthed little mer. "You will be my child, and you will have all that you wish."

The little mer was immediately taken to the councilor's manor and placed in a room with toys and sweets. He laughed and clapped his hands, playing and eating all he wished. But soon he grew bored and went to speak to a servant.

"It's no fun playing by myself," he told the servant. "Can I have someone to play with?"

"The child of the councilor has no equal," the servant told him. "There is none worthy to play with you."

The little mer had little time to think on this when a scholar came to his room. The scholar looked upon the little mer with scorn and said, "Your lessons should have begun hours ago! The child of the councilor must know many great things."

The little mer was made to listen to the scholar's lectures for hours and hours, and soon his head ached with all that he was to know.

Eventually it was time for dinner, but the little mer's troubles were not over.

"In those clothes? In that state?" cried his servant, horrified. "You must be washed and clothed if you are to be presented as the child of the councilor!" And so the little mer was scrubbed roughly and forced into very uncomfortable clothes.

By this point the little mer was almost in tears. He missed his home, and his clothes, and his friends. But most of all he missed his mother, who he had never gone a day without.

When the little mer was finally sent to the dining hall, he was met with a surprise. Seated at the dining table was his family, all laughing and smiling. He ran to his mother arms and cried, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I want you to be my mother after all!"

The councilor, who was seated at the head of the table, smiled and told the little mer, "You have learned a very important lesson, my child. We often forget to be thankful for what we have, when thinking only of what we want."


	15. Blessed Almalexia's Fables for Evening

Sotha Sil and the Stars

Young Sotha Sil lay upon a patch of moss and gazed up at the stars. Driven by his great love of maths, his mind turned to counting. "I shall count every star and give each a name!" he resolved. For hours he counted and named until, at length, his eyes tired and he drifted off to sleep.

When morning came, Sotha Sil woke with a start and looked up at the sky. Alas, all the stars had vanished. He buried his face in his hands and began to weep, for he had learned a harsh lesson. You see, child, time cages all tasks.

* * *  
The Strongest Nix-Ox

A great nix-ox trumpeted to its herd, "None of you love the master more than I! Do you see what great burdens I bear?"

"But you are twice our size!" the lesser nix-oxen grumbled. "Better for us to carry four bales of saltrice than struggle with six and risk great injury."

"Bah!" the mighty nix-ox snorted. "It's hard work you fear, not injury." The great beast took up its yoke and trudged out into the field.

The lesser nix-oxen gathered by a fence and watched their mighty brother take up two bales of saltrice, then four bales, then six, eight, ten! Until at last, the great nix-ox was laden with twelve full bales. "Do you see?" it said, straining for breath. "None of you love the master more than I!"

Just then, the nix-ox's shell began to crack under the weight. It let out a painful bellow and collapsed under the bales—crushed to death.

The lesser nix-oxen sighed and shook their heads. "Poor fool. He learned too late that there is no mortal strength without limits."

* * *  
The Tale of the Frozen Guar

A lonely guar struggled through the Ashlands on a cold, moonless night. The wind was frosty and bitter and chilled the animal to the bone. "Alas!" it cried, "I will die here, alone in the cold."

Just then, the guar caught sight of a faint orange glow in the distance. "A campfire?" it barked hopefully, "It must be! It must be!"

The guar raced toward the light, its feet growing warmer with every step. Soon, the cold gave way to a sweltering heat. The air grew thick and acrid, searing the guar's nostrils and lungs. But still, it hurried on, barking, "It must be a campfire! It must be! It must be!"

Finally, the guar reached the orange glow. Alas, it was not a campfire, but a great flow of lava. The guar, so seduced by the warmth, gave this truth no heed. It sprinted to the lava's edge and tripped on a loose stone. With one last joyful bark, the beast landed headfirst in the fiery liquid and died.

So you see, child, a fool's thirst for safety carries its own risks.

* * *  
The Most Beautiful Netch

A netch mother once said to her calf, "You, my darling, are the most beautiful netchling in all these isles. No bull is worthy of you!"

For years the netch's vanity grew. Many worthy bulls approached her with loving intent, but she rebuffed them all, saying, "Do you not know that I am the most beautiful netch in all these isles? None of you are worthy of me!"

At length, the netch grew old and weary. "Alas, I shall die alone!" she cried.

A young netch couple passed her by and sighed at her wretched condition. "We must be cautious with our calves," the betty said. "Smothering a child with praise does nothing but harm."


	16. Blessed Almalexia's Fables for Morning

The Tallest Shroom Beetle

A shroom beetle, lamenting its small stature, crawled to the top of a great mushroom. It gazed out over the Ashlands and cried, "Ha! There is no shroom beetle taller than I! There is nothing I cannot see!"

Just then, a cliff racer swooped down and plucked the beetle from its perch. The beast grinned a wide toothy grin and said, "Had you stayed on the ground, I never would have seen you. Is it not better to be short than dead?"

Alas, the beetle learned too late that forsaking one's nature brings nothing but ruin.

* * *  
The Tale of Two Herders

Two guar herders met in the market square, preparing to sell their stock. The shorter of the two laughed at the other and jeered, "You bring only one guar to market? Look upon my herd! I have brought ten and twenty and stand to make a fortune!"

The tall herder merely shook his head. "You may have ten and twenty guars, but they are scrawny and frail. Better to have one steady beast than a hundred sickly ones."

The short herder released an oafish chuckle and prepared to usher his beasts into the pens. Just then, a great ash storm arrived and pummeled the market with howling winds and choking fumes.

Eventually, the storm relented. The tall herder and his great, strong guar were unharmed, but the short herder's guars were thrown this way and that, and not one of them had survived.

"Do you see now, my friend?" the tall herdsman said. "Numbers are no substitute for quality."

* * *  
The Friendly Alit

A jovial alit pranced across the Ashlands, ever watchful for a beast it could call "friend." Presently it came upon a nix-hound who was preening itself in an ashpit. The alit smiled a great smile and cried out, "Greetings, friend!" The nix-hound, seeing the alit's huge teeth, panicked and dashed under a rock. The alit sighed and pranced on.

In due course it came upon a vvardvark rooting through a beetle-nest. "Hello!" the alit shouted, smiling widely and revealing its huge, sharp teeth. The vvardvark squealed in terror and scampered off into the bushes. The alit released another mournful sigh, and trundled on toward the shore.

Finally, it spotted an ash-hopper rolling in the sand. The alit summoned up its widest, most cheerful smile and said, "Hail, ash-hopper!" The ash-hopper leapt back in horror and sprung away as fast as it could.

The alit was heartbroken. "I will never have a friend as long as I have these terrible teeth!" it hissed. The beast resolved to be done with them altogether. It took a huge rock in its mouth and bit down hard—knocking out all its teeth like a box of loose nails. "Finally," it sighed "other beasts will no longer be afraid!"

Just then a great Kagouti arrived, stomping its feet and preparing to pounce. The alit growled and opened its wide jaws to frighten the predator away, but the kagouti just laughed. "You fool! You've no teeth left in your head!" The alit realized its folly too late. The kagouti lunged and swallowed the cheerful beast in one huge gulp.

So you see, child—that which we hate in ourselves is often our greatest gift.

* * *  
Vivec and the Cripple

Lord Vivec, while walking down a road, came upon a cripple with a gnarled and withered hand. "Young bravo!" the cripple cried, "Will you not help an oathman in need?"

Vivec stood before the cripple and furrowed his brow. "What is wrong with you, old mer?" he queried.  
The cripple lifted his hand and replied, "Do you not see my withered hand? It is twisted as old roots and pains me greatly when the storms roll in. Women shun me because of its ugliness, and children run at the sight of it. Please, have pity!"

Vivec stood quiet for a moment, then drew his bright sword and severed the mer's hand in one clean stroke. The cripple howled in pain as the warrior-poet dressed the wound.

"Do not bawl so, old mer," said Vivec. "Do you not see that I have done you the greatest kindness? Better to be done with an evil than to carry it on for pity's sake."


	17. Blood-Soaked Letter

Dearest Mabkir,

Bright Moons, my love! J'zuruk gathered the troupe last night and pled our case. Nuzulaza and Hanilar yowled like ja'khajiit, but in the end, our friends decided your freedom was more important than a new wagon. It will take some time to gather the coin, but this one knows she will see you soon. Seek out the ropefish, Khartag. He captains the vessel that will bring you home to me.

I love you,  
Your Elasarha


	18. Bothamul's Orders

Atarga,

We shifted camp to the island just west of Vassamsi Grotto. Meet us there once you collect our fee. Rumor has it that this mine's worst than all the rest, so let's not linger here long, eh?

If you see those two half-wits in Sadrith Mora, give them a kick in the arse. We're running a smuggling outfit, not a gang of lazy drunks.

Bothamul


	19. Brave Little Scrib Song

There's a kwama we all know,  
Who's as bold as any Dunmer,  
You can see by Torchbug's glow,  
Little Scrib, she's such a wonder.

Play, play! Life's an adventure!  
Run, run! As fast as you dare!  
Sing, sing! Imagine the pleasure!  
Everything's fun ... when you don't have a care!

Mean Old Torchbug, full of tricks,  
His voice crackling like fire,  
Advice he shares conflicts,  
Sends Little Scrib into trouble dire.

Play, play! Life's an adventure!  
Run, run! As fast as you dare!  
Sing, sing! Imagine the pleasure!  
Everything's fun ... when you don't have a care!

Brave Little Scrib with the heart so pure,  
Always in search of adventure,  
She says "Maybe tomorrow."  
He says "If you insist,  
But that treasure, you'll miss."

Play, play! Life's an adventure!  
Run, run! As fast as you dare!  
Sing, sing! Imagine the pleasure!  
Everything's fun ... when you don't have a care!


	20. Buoyant Armigers: Swords of Vivec

Few embody Lord Vivec's spirit of adventure and exploration as proudly as the Buoyant Armigers. This military order of the Tribunal Temple serves Lord Vivec with dedication and heroic zeal. Oath-bound to emulate the Master of Morrowind's command of the varied arts of personal combat, chivalric courtesy, and subtle verse, these warrior-poets stand as the champions of the Temple and Vivec's personal knights-errant. They take on specific missions when available and wander the land in search of adventure when nothing else requires their intervention. The Buoyant Armigers perform their deeds and noble exploits in the name of Lord Vivec, even while they engage in a friendly rivalry with the more solemn Ordinators.  
Most members of this knightly order come from the ranks of House Redoran. The noble ideals and sense of adventure match closely with the virtues of the House, so it's not surprising that Redorans are drawn to Vivec's service. Take, for example, Elynea Omayn, the proud daughter of a House Redoran councilor. She could have found a place as a high-ranking officer in the Redoran military or as a Redoran representative to another Ebonheart Pact nation. Instead, her daring and love of complex verse led her to join the Buoyant Armigers. A favorite of Lord Vivec and an inspiration to her fellow knights-errant, Omayn visits Vivec Palace often but rarely remains for longer than a day or two at a time. Then it's off on another mission or in search of her own adventure so that she can add more verses to her ever-expanding ballad of amazing exploits.  
"Knight Omayn, fair and pure, came upon some nix-ox spoor,  
Of quantity immense and odor intense, Such offal could only have come from something extremely hostile."

The ballad goes on to describe how Elynea Omayn encounters her rival and sometimes lover, Ordinator Nisath, also on the trail of the monstrous nix-ox. The two exchange friendly jabs and engage in bawdy innuendos as they make their way into a desolate canyon after tracking the enraged creature's path of destruction.  
"Ordinator Nisath, with a mighty sword and a weapon to match,  
Was eager to add such a terrible beast to his ever-growing catch. But Knight Omayn spoke faster, assaulting the creature with a barrage of banter, Confusing, inspiring, her wit and words ended the threat and averted disaster."

Vivec encourages his knights-errant to hunt down and eliminate necromancers, blighted creatures, and the assorted champions of dark forces throughout the land. He expects them to remain true to Vivec's ideals while quoting from the warrior-poet's writings or crafting their own verse as they seek out adventure. Novice members of the order don the traditional chitin armor of the Dunmer. In contrast, more renowned knights adorn themselves with more expensive Daedric or even glass armor.  
Whereas the Ordinators stand somber and alert, Vivec's Buoyant Armigers leap and bound enthusiastically as they search for adventure. Gushing with ostentatious bravado and dashing flamboyance, the typical member of the order is valiant, fearless, well-read, and a master of verse and rhythm. They revere Lord Vivec who, in turn, blesses them with preternatural courage and a flare for dramatic performance. When our Lord Vivec requires agents to complete an important task or deal with an impending threat, he never hesitates to call upon his loyal and faithful Buoyant Armigers.


	21. Captain's Note

If you can read this, make sure the rest of the crew hears this and understands.

There's a Morag Tong writ with my name on it. I suspect our confederate in Seyda Neen's feet have grown cold. Well, we'll deal with Governor Omellian and his treachery soon enough. And if I'm wrong about the governor, if instead one of you hopes to advance your station by having me assassinated, then come and face me. The crew deserves an honorable leader, not backstabbing scum.

Captain Svadstar


	22. Chodala's Writings

I acquired something remarkable during my sojourn in the wilderness. Thanks to my benefactor, I learned that a group of Nycotic cultists were conducting a ritual to channel unfathomable power into a simple staff. It was easy enough to convince the Red Exiles to retrieve the staff for me. Now Sunna'rah is mine, just as my benefactor foretold!  
With the power of Sunna'rah coursing through me, there is nothing beyond my reach! I must step forward and fulfill my destiny—I am the Nerevarine, the savior of our tribes! I always suspected as much, but the power of Sunna'rah solidifies my claim. It makes me fearless, invincible. Let the Houses tremble, let the Tribunal quake in fear, for Chodala the Nerevarine will bring them down and save our cherished traditions.  
The time has come to cast down the false gods and restore our lost traditions. The time has come to cleanse the land with a holy war! Then and only then, Morrowind shall be great again.


	23. The Cliff-Strider Song

While cliff-racers spread their wings, so broad,  
And lesser birds bend their knees, so awed,  
You snarl, and hiss, and spit, and screech!  
I hear the guars grunting each to each,  
"What a terror! What savage speech!"  
Oh to be like you.

Your temper flares at the smallest offense,  
You snatch our guars and mangle our fence!  
You nest in our lofts, spray dung on the wall,  
Tear up our roofs like a mid-summer squall,  
Frighten our children and make the babes bawl,  
Promise you'll never change.

Cliff-strider, stride so high,  
On fiery crags, you touch the sky!  
Cliff-strider, stride so high,  
Screech loud as thunder, may you never die!

You're vengeful and petty like my mother-in-law,  
You stink like you've got old fish in your craw,  
Your shrieks shatter glass, and rattle my ears,  
Your rotten-fig smell brings grown mer to tears,  
You piss on our pillows, they smell bad for years,  
You're Vvardenfell's pride and joy!

Cliff-strider, stride so high,  
On fiery crags, you touch the sky!  
Cliff-strider, stride so high,  
Screech loud as thunder, may you never die!


	24. Cogitation Log 1322331455212478

Hail Creator,

Animonculi reprocessing continues without deviation from your Glorious Design.

Reprocessing of the Inert continues at a one-to-one ratio.

Conversion of salvage to raw material remains a ninety percent efficiency. Refactoring will continue according to your mandate.

Refabrication of Dwemeri designs remains suspended, by your will.

Iteration continues according to your mandate.

All changes successfully compiled and integrated.

Awaiting your command.


	25. Come to Vvardenfell!

Cousin,

I know you've got a place above that store in Stormwind, but you really have to join me in Vvardenfell. I've been here less than a year and I've already got my own place just outside Balmora. I'm making enough gold that I take voyages down to Vivec City every month or so.

You wouldn't believe the architecture here. They built "the City of the Warrior-Poet" right out on the water. All these multi-layered cantons—I have a hard time finding my way around!

And Balmora has a canal running right through the center of the town. I though they'd call it the "town of waters," but it really should be "the town of beautiful barmaids." There's a Dark Elf woman working at one of the inns who really likes me, I can tell.

Anyway, when you get here, find me in Balmora. It's north of Seyda Neen. If you land in Vivec City, spend the extra gold for a barge trip. The wildlife along the road can be a bit dangerous.

Arturian


	26. Council Meeting Summons

Members of the Redoran Council,

The next meeting shall take place at the Redoran Consulate just outside of Balmora. Agenda items include current events in your territory, financial updates, house relations, presentation of pending issues, and propositions for adding items to future agendas.

Please bring all pertinent logs and records for presentation and review.

High Councilor Meriath


	27. Dark Elves, Dark Hearts

From the Journal of Wandering Laborer, Bakozog gro-Shakh:

Orcs catch it in the tusks, no question. Doesn't matter where I go. I could be hauling rope in Wayrest or laying bricks in Bergama. Wherever I travel, I hear it. "Savage." "Brute." "Beast." It used to really tear me up. I'd look at my reflection in a bowl of water or a shop window and think "you know, maybe they're right." But not anymore. Not since I moved to Vvardenfell.

You want to get a good look at what "savage" really means? Come spend some time with the Dark Elves. Sure, they clean up well. Everything here is clean and polished and pressed. But if you pull back the curtain even a little, you'll see evil. And I don't mean a clumsy, childish evil. I'm talking about real evil—lusty, red-eyed, and smiling like a Daedra. Enslavement, murder, deception, cruelty—name a sin and you'll find it venerated. Name a Daedra and you'll find it worshiped. This island is corrupt, straight down to the marrow. Don't believe me? All right, let's talk about bugs.

Vvardenfell is crawling with insects—some as small as a babe's toenail, and some as big as mammoths. That alone wouldn't be cause for concern. I mean, the echatere back home give some folks the creeps. Most of these critters are hard to look at. But the real horror doesn't come from the bugs themselves. It comes from what the Dark Elves do to them.

Take the nix-ox. Never seen one? Picture a flea the size of a horse, propped up on six hairy stilts. Got it? That's a nix-ox.

Far as I can tell, they're gentle creatures. They don't bleat or grunt like other pack animals. They just wander about, grazing on hardened mushrooms—cracking them open with their great big mandibles and lapping up the fungus inside the husk. Gentle giants, they are. Too gentle, I think.

Early in the morning, while the beasts are still dozing, six or seven Dark Elves will descend upon the herd like a pack of greedy welwas. It doesn't take long for them to goad a dozen or so nixes into wheeled ox-pens. The leader of the crew will take a quick survey of the catch and mark their chitin with black chalk. Prices, you see? Of course, some don't get marked. Some are too frail or two small to be of use. Rather than letting the creatures go, one of the wranglers will jab them with a spear. Right beneath the chin, see? Then they kick them out of the pens and leave them to rot. The sad thing is that these are the lucky ones.

Nix-oxen that make it to market are divided into two groups: Nix-Tovo, and Nix-Rima. Tovo oxen tend to be older and larger. You can snatch up two or three for the price of a single Rima. For the longest time, I couldn't figure out why. I finally asked one of the wranglers to explain why larger, stronger nix-oxen are so much cheaper.

"Hide's too thick," he said. "Can't pry it."

You see, an older nix's chitin is thick as oak bark. It cracks under pressure. Younger nixes' hides, however, are more pliable. With a bit of pressure, you can separate the plates to see the organs underneath. This access is what makes Rima oxen so valuable.

Wealthier farmers hire specialists called drenlyns to "train" their nix-oxen. It's a softer way of saying "break." The drenlyn bores into the poor beast's back with an obsidian drill, and pries open the flesh to expose a bundle of nerves resting in a cavity they call the "drive chamber." They set a few hook-like prods into the viscera, and then reset the plates. It takes the better part of an hour, but by the end, the ox is docile as a lamb. It just stands there. No restless pacing, no nervous twitching of the mandibles. Not alive, not dead … just a husk.

I won't lie, it's hard to watch. But you know what the scariest part is? The scariest part is how bored everyone looks. I looked into one of those drenlyn's eyes as he pried a nix-ox's back apart, and you know what I saw? The same face my daughter makes when she milks an echatere. A weary, disinterested, nothing-face. Totally oblivious. Immune to shame.

I'll admit, I'm no green-child. I'll polish off a rack of spare ribs and wash it down with pig-gin without batting an eye. But digging around inside a beast's brains? Turning it into a zombie? It takes a black heart to do something like that. And you know what? Dark Elves do it all the time.


	28. Devotee Journal

Today I begin my pilgrimage to Molag Mar! I'm eager to see this new temple for myself. I hear they built it on the water. Perhaps it floats! Once one has glimpsed Baar Dau, the idea hardly seems farfetched.  
—  
The Buoyant Armigers are a sight to see. Their numbers patrol many of the paths of pilgrimage and they always seem to have something of a spring in their step. Their songs and swords are a comfort for any otherwise inhospitable road.  
—  
It doesn't float, but that doesn't make Molag Mar any less marvelous! This will be a wonderful place to recuperate and prepare for the journey to Mount Kand. But first, I must offer my devotions to the Three at the temple.  
—  
I've seen fewer of the Buoyant Armigers around in the last day or so. Gone off to mind the roads, I suppose. When I asked their senior here when I might find an escort on my journey, she frowned. Some incident at the glass mine has them busy. She claims no one can be spared.  
—  
I've waited long enough. The Armigers may be busy, but I'm sure their presence here has made the wilderness a little tamer. Tomorrow morning I'll continue my journey!


	29. Divayth Fyr's Notes

I consider the first steps into a new world the most momentous. They are filled with anticipation, trepidation, awe, and wonder—even to a soul as old as mine. Imagine my disappointment, then, at my unprecedented journey into the domain of a god-genius beginning with the clatter of shifting garbage under my feet. Behold, divine refuse! Wounded vanity aside, I am here and I will make the most of this opportunity.

—  
I suspect I was only able to stabilize the rift where it opened in Mundus as no one else from my expedition has erupted from the scrap heaps to greet me. That honor appears to be reserved for the mangled and discarded works of Sotha Sil. I have been forced to reduce a number of aggressive fabricants to slag since my arrival. Whether that is in response to the commands of the ever-present overseer, malfunction, or instinct I have yet to determine.

—  
There is some hope that my associates were not deposited in the farthest reaches of Oblivion. The constant prattle of the machine operator of this place implies that it is contending with intruders aside from myself. For my part, I will continue to study the mechanisms within my reach while I remain beneath its notice.


	30. Drovos Research Notes

After many professional setbacks, I now believe I've found my calling to become, of all things, a kwama breeder. Still, this uncharted ground holds many possibilities. The science behind this field is pitiful, ineffective at worst and slow at best. My kwama breed must be stronger, healthier, longer lived. With my intellect I strive to create what will be, effectively, an entirely new race. A superior kwama, the likes of which Vvardenfell has never seen.

I've set up my research in the Matus-Akin Egg Mine, owned by grasping House Hlaalu. They'll accept any proposal that promises to earn them more gold. Myself, I have little interest in wealth. Gold is easy to come by, but it's a legacy I mean to build. My name will be remembered and revered by all when my research is complete.

-

My current employers have seen fit to tether a leash to my neck. It takes the form of Ridena Devani. This so called "sub-Tamrielic naturalist" sees only danger where I see innovation. She cowers behind morals and ethics, like a child hiding behind her mother's skirts. She's already set on holding back my progress. I will have to think of a way to protect my research and my already evolving subjects.

My subjects. They come along excellently! Through mundane breeding methods and my brilliant alchemical creations, they've become hardier and more resolute than any other kwama. An unfortunate side effect causes an increase in aggression, but nothing is ever perfect. I've developed a scent for myself and the workers in order to keep them calm, but still Devani worries that they've become too violent. I'll have to find a way to get rid of her nagging, sooner rather than later.

-

My subjects have never been stronger, and there are still ways to prefect them. They shall be immune to every illness, live twice as long as their lesser kin. And my crowning achievement, the queen. Oh, yes, the queen I've developed will manifest all of the vitality of her colony and yield twice the eggs of any of her peers. No, she has no peers! This breed will be without equal in all of Vvardenfell, in all of Tamriel!

The mercenaries I've hired do not make for pleasant company, but they do grant me the security I need to ensure my research continues. I've already gotten rid of Devani, forcing her from the mines. She's taken to writing notes, turning my soldiers into carriers. I believe I will grant her request and allow her one last conversation.


	31. Drunken Aphorisms

Give a baby alit a chunk of meat, and he'll be fed for an hour. Teach a baby alit to find its own meat and you'll be dead in a week.

Dark Elves are like volcanos—gray, ornery, and filled with red goo.

Never tell a nix-hound that it's ugly. It doesn't speak Cyrodilic, and it won't understand what you're saying. You're just wasting your time.

The only road worth traveling is the road that's not made of lava.

When you set the table, always leave out one glass for a friend. If they don't show, you can drink two drinks at once.

It's good to be rich, but it's even better to be really, really rich.

If you want to murder someone, use a Dunmeri knife. If you want to spread butter, also use a Dunmeri knife. Dark Elves make great knives.

No mushroom is ever so tall as the mushroom that grows the tallest.

If I was a guar and someone tried to ride me, I'd buck them off! Then I'd try to find a witch who could turn me back into a person.

Life is like a cliff racer—it flies right by and it stinks.

If someone asks you why you drink so much, just tell them you lost your wife recently. If they ask how, tell them she fell into one of the wine bottles and you're trying to find her.

The mer who chases two guars at once will get really, really tired and probably shouldn't be a guar farmer.

When life offers you sour figs, just eat them right away. That'll show life.

You can teach a guar to dance, but it'll still look really stupid.

A wise mer never turns his back on a Telvanni wizard ... unless there's a Telvanni wizard behind him. Then things get weird.

Never talk about how stupid the Tribunal is. Wait, are you writing this down?

Khajiit make the best wives. They drink a lot, sleep a lot, and don't live very long..

Never test the temper of a one-eyed Orc. It's the only test he'll always pass.

If you ask the Tribunal for rain, you'll get a flood. That's why constipated Dark Elves never pray.

If Almalexia tells you to jump, you jump. If Sotha Sil tells you to jump, you don't jump, because Sotha Sil never tells anyone to do anything. If Vivec tells you to jump, you take a moment to think, because he probably wants you to paint a three-legged horse or something.

Some days you're the bull and some days you're the betty. But either way, you're still a giant tentacle monster.

I love mudcrabs. They taste great and they never tell you what they think.

Drinking alone is like drinking with friends, just with less people.


	32. Egg Mines and You!

Welcome to the wonderful world of kwama! These adorable creatures come in a variety of sizes, roles, and dispositions, each more beautiful than the last. Our goal, of course, is the welfare of each and every kwama in Vvardenfell, but many see these majestic creatures only as sources of profit. Remember though, a happy mine is a productive mine! It's in the best interest of all that we treat kwama with respect and dignity.

Kwama are best known for their relation to egg-mining, and of course there can be no eggs without a queen. Kwama queens are beautiful beings, far larger than any other kwama. Good thing for us, for she's the one who produces all of the yummy eggs which end up on our dinner plates! A queen in distress is not only a sad sight to see, it also can cause egg productivity to plummet. Make sure your queen is well fed, and at the end of the day you'll end up with a full belly, too!

You're not the only one taking care of the queen, of course. She has kwama foragers, warriors, and workers at her disposal. Each of these kwama have important roles to play in the colony, and each makes sure their queen is well fed or well protected. If you want a happy queen, you need a happy colony. The reverse is also quite true! A distressed queen always leads to an upset colony, and that hurts productivity.

Kwama foragers serve as the scouts of the colony, always looking for new homes and suitable prey. If met in the wild, it's best to resist the urge to pet these lovely creatures, as they can be quite aggressive. I'm sure you would be a bit peeved as well if some stranger came up to pat you on the head! Keep your distance and these little fellows shouldn't harm you.

A kwama built to inflict harm, however, is the mighty warrior. Though not as large as their lovely queen, these soldiers are often taller than your common Dark Elf. Don't be too awestruck if you meet one! A hasty exit is usually your best chance to escape the mine unscathed. Workers often emit special scents to protect them from a kwama warrior's wrath. Make sure that you speak to a knowledgeable alchemist if you wish to obtain the proper scents.

And last, but most certainly not least, is the ever busy kwama worker! My word, but there would be no colony at all without these bustling bugs! The kwama worker digs the tunnels, tends to the queen, and watches over the precious eggs until they're ready to harvest. They're often nonaggressive, but best not to disturb these little ones while they're about their work. You never know if a kwama warrior lurks around the corner.

These basics provide the start in understanding our hard-shelled little friends! Further chapters in this volume will explore breeding methods, nutrition guides, mining practices, and much more! Join me in the journey, and together we can protect kwama of all kinds.


	33. Faith in the Shadow of Red Mountain

As we gather for worship here at the Tribunal Temple, I look out upon you, my fellow faithful, and I see you are troubled, I see you are anxious, I see you shift in your seats and glance over your shoulders even as I speak to you. And I know why you are troubled and anxious, for who could not be troubled when Red Mountain grumbles and seethes? Who could not be anxious when Baar Dau trembles in the sky, when unknown Daedra appear in unexpected locales, when it is even said that the Nerevarine has risen among the Ashlanders?

But I say to you, fellow Dunmer, have not all these things and worse happened before? Did our people not survive them and become stronger every time? What says our Lord Vivec about such struggles? "Six are the guardians of Veloth," says Vivec, "three before and they are born again, and they will test you until you have the proper tendencies of a hero."

And so, once more, we are tested. And so, once more, we shall endure and prove worthy. For the Three are with us, and we are strong through our faith in the Three. Our Living Gods call upon us all to honor them with our efforts.

We call upon House Redoran to buttress our structures, physical and moral, building the new and rebuilding the old, and to keep us on the path of righteousness.

We call upon House Hlaalu to plant, harvest, and preserve, to keep the river of trade flowing, to ensure prosperity even through fall of ash and breath of fume.

We call upon House Telvanni to be wise and forbearing, sharing insights and enchantments, for though they are not of the Pact, they are still of our people.

And we call on you, followers of the Tribunal, to remember the example of Saint Nerevar, whose courage is a watchword and whose endurance is a legend. For though we are anxious and troubled, we are proud and we are fierce, for we are the Dunmer, and for us, trouble is a gift from the gods. For by trouble are we tested, and by passing the test we know our true worth.

Praise Vivec! All glory to the Three Most High! We walk with them, in wisdom and in strength, ever and anon.


	34. Ferhara's Warclaws

High Councilor Meriath,

I want to once again appeal to you and the Redoran Council concerning the status and disposition of the mercenary band known as Ferhara's Warclaws. I urge you to grant me the funds and authority to employ these professional warriors to permanently bolster our forces in and around Balmora. I know that you and Councilor Eris believe that Redoran soldiers are capable of protecting House interests and I agree. But with the continuing need for soldiers in the Ebonheart Pact, I find my resources dangerously limited when it comes to dealing with Daedric cultists, Ashlanders, and other threats to Redoran prosperity.

Allow me to remind you of Ferhara and her impressive qualifications.

Ferhara, a Khajiit warrior who earned prestige and a reputation as a military strategist fighting on the side of the Dominion in the Three Banners War. After serving with honor for two tours of duty, she gathered a band of trusted comrades-in-arms and decided to sell her skills to the highest bidder. Her mercenary band grew and made a name for itself as it worked for merchant lords and nobles from Elswyr [sic] to Morrowind. They originally came to Vvardenfell at the behest of House Hlaalu before we were able to secure their services for House Redoran.

Now Ferhara's Warclaws—an elite band of Khajiit warriors loyal to Ferhara and whoever holds their contract—work for me to promote Redoran interests. Their work in regards to the Ashlanders, for example, demonstrates the importance of keeping these mercenaries loyal to our House. I hope you will agree. I look forward to discussing this in more detail at the next meeting of the council so that we can move forward with a new and more expansive contract.

Captain Brivan


	35. Firuth's Writ of Endorsement

Esteemed Councilors,

I, Master Firuth, steward of Hanud and lands beyond, do hereby support and affirm Sun-in-Shadow's promotion to the rank of retainer in the Great House Telvanni.

The Argonian's grasp of our playful internecine rivalries shows a degree of perspicacity I thought impossible in members of her race. For this reason alone, she deserves recognition and respect. She will serve the House well in her new role as retainer.

Honor and Regards,  
Firuth  
Master of the Great House Telvanni  
Steward of Hanud


	36. The Flames of the Fetcherfly

I, Zabia-ko, now study creatures for the fools in the Mages Guild. Can you imagine? This one, whose last gold was earned selling half-rotten candied nixad to migrant workers on a ship bound for Vivec City? Ha! The fools wanted to pay for stories that would be written anyway, so this one took their gold and questioned no further.

After filling little Zabzag's belly with fresh greens and a night at Balmora's Randy Netch Inn, this one packed up to explore the wetlands of Vvardenfell. For two nights nothing more than the common creeping pests came across my path. What misfortune! In all other stories, they found their way across my path during desperate times. How does one seek out such things? Perhaps I, Zabia-ko, was the fool for taking the guild's gold.

While wallowing in misfortune, it was the smell that drew this one's attention. Large flies, with wide glowing wings buzzed by this one's head. The Dark Elves call them the "fetcherfly." It seems a mere pest, but do not be fooled! When one landed on my arm, it smoked, singeing the fur.

There was no choice. The creature must be followed so the tale can be told and the gold can be earned. Tracking the creature back to its nest, there was discovered a large rock the size of two Orcs (or one Orc, if the Orc tells it). Thousands of the flying fires swarmed the rock, which glowed from the heat, its pores venting smoke and life. Suddenly, the whole nest shifted. When it stood, understanding came on how wrong I was. It was the size of at least three Orcs.

I dove flat into the rotten mud as the creature of rock and flies began to amble in my direction. This one is no slayer of great beasts! Why must it pick on me? Swarms of smoking insects fluttered around, hissing as they landed on wet fur. Poor Zabzag shrieked and fled. The end of Zabia-ko would be face down in the mud.

But, obviously, it was not so. The hive golem must have thought this one was no longer a threat, so it plodded off like an echatere with a belly full of snow truffles. This one returned to the inn with many things: a story to tell, a clothes full of burn holes, and mud-caked fur.

So if you're ever in the wilds of Vvardenfell, you will wonder as this one did whether the Dark Elves named the fetcherfly because it was annoying or if the word "fetcher" came from these pests.


	37. For Glory!

Calling all adventurers, sellswords and spellslingers, heroes and ne'er-do-wells!

Do you long for a greater challenge? Try your might at the Battlegrounds, where games of glory and gore await you! We seek the greatest champions of the land for our contests of strategy and skill.

Speak to Battlemaster Rivyn for more information.


	38. Freshly-Penned Note

Rilos,

Nerandas requests a meeting. Usually I would send Nisimal, but a case of gout has rendered him useless. Given that you are his deputy, the task falls to you. Make haste to the wharf east of town and find out what troubles our friend.

Nerandas insists on total secrecy so you must use a passphrase. You will approach him and say, "The cliff-racer takes the wing," to which he will reply, "Its stench remains."

I needn't remind you that the situation remains perilous so long as Dratha lives. Do not fail me.

Savarak


	39. Good Travels!

My dearest friend,

I was thrilled to hear that you were traveling to Vvardenfell. A new adventure suits you, and I know you were getting bored back home.

I don't know what you expect to find, but let me tell you what I know of the land of the Dark Elves. The main city in the region is Vivec City. I don't know how you feel about gods and such, but one of the Tribunal—the Living Gods of the Dark Elves—lives in the city. Lord Vivec himself apparently lives in a grand palace there.

You'll probably come ashore in the village of Seyda Neen, if my travel experience was typical. Nice enough location, though the number of smugglers and slavers you run into can be somewhat off-putting.

And wait until you see the Telvanni towers! They grow them out of giant mushrooms, of all things!

Anyway, enjoy your time among the Dark Elves. Hopefully, I'll see you again when you return to Tamriel proper!

Good travels!


	40. The Grave of Skar

Skar's hollow eyes gaze upon the camps, webs clotting his vision as firelight dances across his withered face. His open maw now stands as an entryway, open only to the worthiest among the Ashlanders. They walk before this towering beast, the fallen foe of their ancestors. There is no music or drink, but rather solemn contemplation and prayer. I only hear their murmured voices and the crackle of the flames.

The Ashlanders say little to an outlander such as myself. They hold no love for any outside of their tribe, and a burning hatred for Dark Elves who follow the Tribunal. I feel turmoil growing, sunken into the ashen soil, fixed deeper than the legs of the fallen Skar. I feel there would be little hesitation among the Vvardenfell Dark Elves, should an opportunity arise for war.

I try to understand their ways, their customs. Their history with the horrid beast, the house of their council, a shrine of their past. How was Skar defeated? Why is his corpse used as their meeting grounds? My questions are met with silence by most. Those willing to speak do so for the promise of food or gold, and even they have little to say.

What I do know is that their ancestors defeated Skar in battle, though I'm not sure how. Some speak of a spear, but not of who wielded it. Who was this mysterious warrior? I would expect him to be well revered, honored among the Ashlanders. Why do none know his name? The oral traditions passed, those shared among the campfires I'm allowed to attend, they hold extraordinary details. Why does this name escape their memory?

The morbid grounds where the Ashlanders meet hold great importance as well. It reminds me of thanes that mount their kills above their thrones, a show of power and triumph. As the Ashlanders think upon their past victories, they also gain hope for future glory. They were the mer who felled this beast, the mighty Skar. What can they not accomplish, should the day come?

I look upon Skar's carcass, a shudder running through me. It fills me with dread, yet for these Ashlanders I believe he is a sign of hope, of strength. My gaze runs along their campfires and I wonder. What will come of that strength, of that pride? What future is in store for these tribes? Perhaps another Skar will rise and they will be the ones to defeat him. Or perhaps they will be the ones who are defeated. Only the passage of time will reveal that truth.


	41. A Guide to Dwemer Mega-Structures

While we know a great deal about the various forms of Dwemer animunculi, many of the larger Dwemer marvels remain a mystery. Legends of Dwemer orreries and fabrication chambers abound, but direct, first-hand scholarship remains scant. I have spent my life in search of these Dwarven mega-structures. While I've met with considerable success, there is one mechanism in particular that I am keen to find: the Dwemer Tonal Resonator.

At the height of their power, the Dwemer exhibited near total mastery of tonal forces. Even now, countless centuries later, they remain peerless in this respect. Sound, not magic, facilitated their rise to power. I am continually astounded by tonal forces' wide range of uses. The Dwemer used sound in mining, medicine, architecture—even psychology. It's the latter use that I find most intriguing. According to ancient Chimeri scholarship, the Dwemer could employ tonal forces to bend weaker minds to their will—a form of complex aural hypnosis. Luckily, the Dwarves never managed to mobilize this technology on the battlefield against our august ancestors. The scale and complexity of the devices likely made transportation nearly impossible. But they still managed to employ it on a limited scale using massive devices called Tonal Resonators.

If the legends are true, these resonators were incredibly complex architectural wonders. They stood taller than the most imposing giants, and filled cavernous chambers with pipes, dials, and pistons. When enabled, the resonators released a series of powerful tones that could alter the brainwaves of lesser mer and men—inducing deep calm and profound pleasure, or even paranoia and terror. The uses for such a device are virtually limitless. Alas, I fear that I will never see one with my own eyes. If such a power could be replicated and perfected, the children of the Tribunal could very well reign supreme in Tamriel and continents beyond.


	42. A Guide to Liturgical Vestments

An Ordinator's every action must reflect the divinity of the Tribunal. Every thought, word, and gesture, no matter how trivial, must glorify the Three. Our appearance, too, must bring honor to ALMSIVI. Herein you shall find a guide to liturgical vestment.

At the beginning of the vesting, an Ordinator must wash herself thoroughly, using mineral water from one of Red Mountain's sacred hot springs and a volcanic pumice. This act has profound spiritual significance. In washing the body, the Ordinator also washes the soul—removing residual sin and any nagging doubts that might interfere with the merciless application of Tribunal law.

Once the washing is complete, the proper vesting can begin.

The Ordinator begins with the rathith—triangular linen small clothes, dyed a deep blue and fastened with brass pins. The rathith is further secured by the arnith, the golden "underbelt" which is also secured using brass pins. Daughters of ALMSIVI are also permitted to wear the alrathith, a second garment tailored to support the breasts.

With the rathith and alrathith secured, the Ordinator is free to move on to the llananor, or "second garment." This long shirt must be washed in sacred mineral water before the sun rises, and pressed thrice over a hot stone. When donning the llananor, the Ordinator must also recite the Litany of Three Virtues. If the Ordinator completes the litany before the shirt is fully donned, they are obliged to repeat the litany twice more before moving on to the next step of the vesting.

The Ordinator's pants, or felassani, must also be washed and thrice pressed before wearing. Ordinators should put on these trousers starting with the left foot and must fasten them using a blue, rope-like belt called a nosa. The slippers must likewise be worn starting with the left foot, and laced with gold ribbon.

Finally, the Ordinator must drape a crimson wool stole, or duleso, about the neck and shoulders thrice, and fasten it with a triangular golden reliquary clasp—a neleviso. This ends the first vesting, or llanathro'lani, and prepares the Ordinator for armor-suiting.

Before the holy armor can be donned, the Ordinator must recite the Forty-Six Canticles of Supplication, and appeal to St. Nerevar the Captain, patron of warriors and defender of Dunmeri society, for protection. After receiving Nerevar's blessing, the Ordinator begins armor inspection.

The Armor of Triune Faith must be free of any nicks, dents, stains, corrosion, or other aesthetic imperfections. Even minor blemishes are affronts to ALMSIVI's divine persons. Ordinators found wearing imperfect armor shall be subject to severe sanction.

The polish should be thorough and uniform, but not garish. The chitinous undervest must be rubbed with an oiled cloth and flexed to prevent aging and distress. Furthermore, the Ordinator should oil all joints, and treat all leather with a firm brushing and a liberal application of kwama-wax armor dressing. At this point, the Ordinator should signal an initiate to prepare for armor fitting.

The initiate begins with the sabatons and greaves (starting with the left) while reciting a prayer to St. Rilms, patron of pilgrims. Once this devotional is complete, the initiate proceeds to the cuisses, reciting another prayer to St. Meris, patron of laborers. At this point, the Ordinator must anoint the breastplate with sacred mineral oil and recite another prayer of supplication to blessed St. Nerevar before handing it over to the initiate. After fastening the cuirass, the initiate moves on to the rerebraces and couters, reciting another devotional to St. Aralor the Penitent. After securing and lacing the pauldrons, the inititate should glove the Ordinator, starting with the left gauntlet, all the while reciting a prayer to St. Delyn the Wise. Finally, the initiate must drape the blue prayer stole, or retheles, over the warrior's shoulders, reciting a final prayer to St. Felms the Bold. This accomplished, the assistant is permitted to retreat to the chapel for post-vesting prayer.

Final armor preparations are left to the Ordinator herself. Using the left hand, the Ordinator must tuck a sprig of bittergreen beneath her right pauldron. Using the right hand, the Ordinator must trace the sign of the Tribunal on her chest—gnashing her teeth and hissing thrice, at each point of the triune to summon up the wrath of the Tribunal. The tinder of faith thus kindled, the Ordinator anoints the Golden Mask of Devotion with mineral oil, presses her forehead to the helm to likewise anoint herself, then dons the helm. Ordinators may now arm themselves with any weapon, so long as it is thoroughly cleaned, and thrice blessed before use.

At this point, any action of the Ordinator is protected by divine mandate. So long as she wears the mask, the Ordinator is considered a faultless hand of the Three, and is authorized to commit any martial action deemed necessary to protect the True Faith. Hands of Almalexia and other specialized members of the order may have additional vestments to wear, but any servant of the Three thus vested is considered a full Ordinator.

Keep to this guide, stay earnest in your prayers, and you will bring naught but glory to ALMSIVI.

Victory for the Three.


	43. Halinjirr's Notes

First Seed, 15  
Halinjirr found a fertile place! It was happenstance. This one just needed a place to rest his weary heels and eat a sugary meal, but as soon as I arrived, I smelled something fresh and loamy. Soil! Real soil—not the sour, fungusy rock I see everywhere else. Halinjirr will do a thorough survey. This might be the place!

First Seed, 17  
Moons be praised! Zainsipilu is perfect! Well, perhaps not "perfect." There are many giant bugs that try to poke Halinjirr's belly with their pointy noses. But, it is like this one's mother always said: there is no sugar without challenge. Halinjirr will travel to Seyda Neen. I am sure to find someone who can help.

First Seed, 20  
Another boon for Halinjirr! I met a Dark Elf in town who can help me with my nix-hound problem. She is sour and has no experience in agriculture, but this one has a good feeling about her.

Rain's Hand, 2  
The nixes are tamed and the crop is planted. All that remains is the waiting. This one hates waiting. Hopefully my little darlings will grow quickly. Halinjirr's sugar pouch grows lighter by the day. If all goes as planned though, this one's sugar pouch will fill to bursting!


	44. The Heart of Lorkhan, My Final Prize

Everyone knows the legend. The Heart of Lorkhan, which so famously told Auriel, "This Heart is the heart of the world, for one was made to satisfy the other." Indestructible, hidden away, cast down into the sea. Only to end up beneath the Red Mountain, waiting for the right opportunist to collect it for their own. And today I have come to collect my prize.

Yes, it may only be my speculation that the Heart resides in Nchuleftingth, but my instinct has driven me to success before. I've researched many volumes pertaining to the myth, and all indicate that it lies beneath Red Mountain. This is where I will make my greatest find.

The fact that I believe in this Aedric artifact should speak nothing of my faith to the Divines. Only a fool ignores myth. After all, every story holds some kernal of truth to it. Legends are simply facts that have been expanded upon, morphed into the ridiculous. And I believe that the Heart, though clearly an object of great power, is merely that. A magical object I mean to obtain.

I was surprised to find Neramo here, of all the halfwits I could come across in Vvardenfell. He and his motley crew were easy enough to capture or run off, and I've found the control rod he's left behind quite useful. Naturally I have many modifications for the tool already in mind, but currently it's worked well in getting the Dwarven constructs under my control.

I'm not sure what the Heart of Lorkhan can achieve. Perhaps it will be a powerful potion ingredient, more potent than any Daedra heart. Or perhaps it can grant magical attributes, such as boundless strength or resilience in battle. Perhaps it is a great soul gem, capable of powering something grander than Tamriel has ever seen. No matter its use, all I know is that it shall earn me enough gold to retire. I am far too sensible to ever attempt to use an item of great power. Too often, such greed leads to despair.


	45. HERE LIES KE'VAL

A LOVING HUSBAND AND UNCLE

MAY HE FIND PEACE IN THE NEXT LIFE


	46. Hlaalu Construction Syndic

High Councilor Meriath,

I have completed an extensive audit of our ongoing business association with the Hlaalu Construction Syndic. While it is true that they provided us with much needed labor and resources, and it was certainly advantageous from a fiscal point of view due to their surprisingly (and now suspiciously) low bid for the contract, I have uncovered a number of disquieting consequences as a result of this continuing relationship.

As far as the construction of the towns of Suran and Balmora, aside from the garish use of Hlaalu architecture when the contract clearly called for the utilization of a more dignified Redoran design, they did complete the work on time and on budget. However, we inadvertently provided them with a foothold beyond Seyda Neen. This, in turn, has enabled them to establish business relations with all sources of raw materials and provisions throughout Vvardenfell, giving House Hlaalu a near-monopoly in these areas. Much of House Redoran now buys all of its local goods through Hlaalu aggregators!

Moreover, House Hlaalu continues to expand its influence in both towns, much to the chagrin of our regional councilors. It's clear they have their eyes on these strategic locations, and I fear that they know how to conquer us through business while we instead remain vigilant against more militaristic overtures.

In conclusion, I fear that in retrospect, we should never have entered into this deal with House Hlaalu. In the long run, we may have saved time and gold only to have lost the territory we so desperately require.

Manaran Renim, First Clerk of House Affairs, Vvardenfell


	47. Hlaalu Letter

My dearest Dolvara,

Your efforts on behalf of House Hlaalu in regards to our interests in Balmora excite me to no end. Best to keep the houses on equal footing, and what better way to accomplish that than by mutual trust and cooperation between two influential insiders? The information you passed along was exceedingly helpful. Take this beautiful collection of jewels as a thank you. Hopefully they'll keep you enthralled until my next visit.

Speaking of visits, our mutual associates in House Dres have agreed to finally meet with you face to face. I'm sure the same charms you used to captivate me will have a similar effect on the Dres agent. Once you get to know each other a little better, I have no doubt that you'll be able to improve the slave trade a hundredfold. Why let the Tribunal and a few Pact rules get in the way of profit and our cherished way of life?

Avlela


	48. Hlaalu Letter of Complaint

Most esteemed Minister Tharyon, House Redoran,

I write to you on a matter of grave importance. My office has received an ever-increasing number of complaints in recent weeks. Many of our House Guests have experienced poor treatment at the hands of House Redoran bailiffs and constables. As you well know, House Hlaalu is duty-bound to address these grievances on their behalf.

My dear minster, while I share your belief in the superiority of the Dunmer people, we must try to keep such opinions to ourselves. House Hlaalu defers to House Redoran on matters of defense; I would urge you to defer to us on matters of commerce and diplomacy.

Our economy is in peril. The Pact has brought us some measure of security, yes, but the cost has been dear. Dearer than I think your Redoran kinsmen are willing to admit. My trade ministers have gone to great lengths to solidify our holdings outside Morrowind. While the enemy has seized most of our extraterritorial property, we retain sizable assets in Imperial bourses and foreign business concerns. Extracting this wealth is no small task. It takes time, gold, and most importantly, connections. We can ill-afford to alienate what few friends we have outside the Pact.

Just this morning I received a complaint from one Theodric Ashcroft—a respected Breton investor. Apparently he was accosted by a pair of constables. while inspecting a potential construction site. Some minor religious infraction, I'm told—stepping over a fence to get a better look at the property, or something? According to Ashcroft, the constable forced him to the ground, dragged him to the Temple, and turned him over to the Ordinators, who subjected him to no less than three hours of interrogation and corporal reeducation. Needless to say, he will not be investing in our fair city. Both Ashcroft and his gold fled to the mainland.

These people may be inferior, their religions may be repugnant, their manners may be tiresome. But for the love of the Three, swallow your pride and bear it! Idle zealotry cannot put food on the table. We cannot fill our coffers with incense and prayer and expect to wage war effectively. Interprovincial commerce is a necessary evil, whether you like it or not. I urge you in the strongest possible terms—leave outsiders be. I hope this will be my final word on the subject.

Yours most respectfully,

Tirnur Nalyn, House Hlaalu Deputy Trade Viceroy


	49. Homes for Sale!

In this time of war and strife, the opportunity to purchase your own home has never been greater! From commoner to merchant lord, the properties available for lease or ownership are many, throughout the length and breadth of Tamriel.

Our trusted agents are always happy to meet with you, our future clients, to discuss the magnificent opportunities that await you in home ownership. Stop in at your local lending institution today and seek Canthion for your free consultation!


	50. Honorable Writs of Execution

Councilor Eris Redoran,

As you requested, I prepared this primer due to recent events involving the ancient guild of assassins known as the Morag Tong. You wanted to know everything available about the guild and its members in order to make informed decisions concerning how to respond to current activities aimed at our Great House. The guild personifies the darker aspects of Dunmer life, celebrating murder in the name of Mephala. Surprisingly, the group was created to curb violence and prevent the always contentious House politics of Morrowind from escalating into full-scale war. Since such a war has yet to erupt, I suppose you could say that the Morag Tong has thus far been a successful experiment.  
The Morrowind government sanctioned the Morag Tong long ago during the First Era, and to this day they continue to perform tacitly legal assassinations, utilizing a system of contracts known as "honorable writs of execution." Under the established laws, no member of the Morag Tong can perform an execution without a writ detailing the exact target and purpose for the sanctioned murder. Maintaining an air of impartiality in regards to House politics, the Morag Tong carries itself with all the weight of a cherished and ancient institution. Members never act on their own accord and cannot take on missions of their own choosing. Instead, petitions for services are sent to the guild's Grandmaster for examination and consideration. If the petition is accepted, an honorable writ of execution is prepared and awarded to a Morag Tong member. From that point on, the contract's target is dead and just doesn't know it—before long the assassin makes contact and completes the deadly transaction.  
Unlike other killers or even those crazed fanatics that belong to the Dark Brotherhood, the Morag Tong assassins admit to their acts and proudly brandish their honorable writs of execution after each kill. These writs pardon a Tong member of any legal entanglements that may occur in the administration of the associated contract. Indeed, by law, a Tong executioner must step forward and proclaim that a kill was performed legally and to the letter of the contract, thus absolving him- or herself and averting any subsequent ramifications related to the act. The Tong claims to provide no safe harbor for criminals, so any member that does not comply comes under investigation and internal punishment.  
The origins of the Morag Tong remain shrouded in legend and conjecture. All I have been able to ascertain for sure is that the group emerged during the bloody House conflicts of early Morrowind, establishing the writ system and rising to prominence by the end of the First Era. The guild reached the height of its power about two-hundred-and-fifty years ago, operating openly across Tamriel and attaining a reputation as unparalleled, reasonable, and honorable killers. The group became too sure of itself, too confident of its position. After a number of high-profile assassinations of monarchs and great lords that frightened the Tamriel nobility, the Tong retreated back to its holdings in Morrowind and vanished from the public eye for more than a century. Today, the group maintains a subdued presence in Dark Elf lands, taking select contracts as they work to reestablish their name and reputation with the Great Houses.  
The organization of the Morag Tong hasn't changed much over the years. A Grandmaster leads the guild, who then grants power to each guild hall's master to accept and assign writs. Note that individual members cannot accept a contract without approval, however, and the guild masters have proven over the years that they take great care when deciding to accept a contract. One possible avenue to explore should the conflict between House Redoran and the Morag Tong escalate is the group's affiliation with Mephala, the Daedric Prince of lies, deception, and murder. While the organization is sanctioned and their heretical ways mostly overlooked by the Tribunal, Ordinators and Buoyant Armigers will deal with these heretics swiftly and brutally if they catch them in the act of committing murder. I leave that for you to decide.  
Enar Dren, House Redoran Master of Records


	51. Honored Ancestors

Llirala Veloth  
|ar  
Fair of face, kind of heart, and keen of mind  
She ruled the Veloth family for more than one hundred years

Prosperity and peace she brought through three unions  
The Tribunal graced her with youth and beauty for all her long life  
Her grace reflected only good upon the family name

 

|al  
Ondre Veloth  
The Master Archer of Molag Amur  
With honor and strength and a bow bestowed by Almalexia  
He held the pass near Lake Nabia for 9 days  
Cursed be the Sload who brought him to his end

 

Valyne Veloth  
|ar  
Weep not for Valyne Veloth  
She toasted her enemies after battles waged  
Her hand promised to the man who killed her father  
She stood as poison ran through her veins  
No muscle or movement betrayed her  
Watching as they all toasted her in kind  
And fell poisoned to the last  
With a smile she dropped her cup and  
At last fell herself  
|al  
Elms Veloth

Fed the family and retainers of the Veloth line  
Throughout the long Year of Great Hunger  
He toiled to nourish the bodies of kith and kin  
No meat or wheat passed his lips  
Until everyone else ate their fill  
When the rains came he laid down  
His sacrifice a nourishment and honor  
As the crops blossomed and fed our people


	52. House Redoran Advisory

House Kin,

Please be advised that the following groups and organizations may be operating against the best interests of House Redoran. As such, be vigilant and cautious in your dealings with these groups, and uphold all House rules and strictures accordingly.

Ashlander Tribes

The savages continue to gather near Ald'ruhn and the nearby environs. Obviously, the presence of the savages hampers house efforts to expand into the region, and the Ashlanders are worse than fetcher flies in any event. The High Council will debate options and formulate plans at their next meeting. In the meantime, avoid Ashlander contact as much as possible.

Morag Tong

While House Redoran accepts the will of the Tribunal and allows that the Morag Tong have the authority to operate within Dunmer territory, we also consider them to be murderers and criminals in the eyes of house law. We view this doubly so as other houses have begun to use the Morag Tong against us to undermine Redoran interests and elevate their own standing. As a general practice, House Redoran will not employ the services of the Morag Tong, nor will it allow the Morag Tong to indiscriminately execute our members.

House Hlaalu

While we technically consider House Hlaalu to be a friend and ally, Hlaalu practices that undermine Redoran trade routes and business ventures have grown increasingly frequent in recent weeks. Hlaalu activity in and around Balmora has become particularly alarming, as they appear to want to take control of the city for themselves. Report any overt or suspicious Hlaalu activity to your House Councilor immediately.


	53. House Redoran Orders

To the warriors of Scrib Battalion, including the soldiers of House Redoran and the mercenaries of Ferhara's Warclaws:

Scrib Battalion is tasked with reclaiming the Kudanat mine and the surrounding countryside from Ashlander squatters.

Ashlanders mistakenly believe that all land is free. They will resist our efforts to clear them from the specified sites. With this in mind, heed the following orders:

1\. Do not use force against the Ashlanders unless absolutely necessary. A peaceful transaction of territory is preferred over taking the area through violence.  
2\. Allow the Ashlanders to leave the vicinity, provided they comply with Redoran law.  
3\. If any Ashlanders resist, disarm the agitators and imprison them for the duration of the engagement.  
4\. If force must be used, make sure it is applied swiftly and to maximum effect.

Captain Brivan


	54. House Redoran Proclamation

By order of the House Guard and the Redoran High Council:

The Shulk Ore Mine is closed and all operations toward re-opening the mine have been suspended. Workers should stay away until further notice, and visitors are strongly cautioned to avoid the area on pain of fine, or imprisonment, or both. This includes you, Crew Chief Hondulf!

Note that ever effort shall be made to locate the missing mine workers as soon as possible.


	55. House Redoran Registry

— Commendation: Sergeant Irileth, for actions beyond the call of duty during the recent Daedra intrusion at Kwama Mine B-37.

— Important Note: The Nords have sent a representative from their Cultural Exchange to facilitate fellowship and understanding between our people. Please provide Ambassador Rigurt every possible courtesy in this endeavor, no matter how odd his behavior may seem.

— The following members of the House Guard have completed officer training: Freya, Dorthasi, Rivame, and Baryon.

— Lena Dalvel, recent graduate of the Shad Astula Academy, has been assigned to the Redoran Investigation Commission. She's bright and talented and will make a great addition to our intelligence-gathering organization. We should be wary of her wild tales of exploding shadow clucks, however, just as a precaution.

— Exile: For conduct unbecoming of a Redoran officer and noble, by order of the Redoran High Council, Captain Ulran Releth has been stripped of his rank and exiled from House Redoran and Tribunal territory.

— Brivan Malrom has been promoted to captain of our western forces in light of the recent dismissal of Ulran Releth.

— Ashlander Incidents: Incidents continue to mount concerning Ashlander unrest among the tribes occupying the wilderness beyond Balmora. Captain Brivan has hired the mercenary band known as Ferhara's Warclaws to assist the Redoran military as necessary.


	56. How to Use the Tonal Inverter

1\. The tonal inverter requires two willing, consenting, adults to operate; one harmonic modulator to generate and prepare the sound wave, one resonance intonator to release the prepared sound wave and disrupt Sotha Sil's modified energy-stealing device.

2\. Harmonic modulator operates the tonal inverter, nearby but out of direct combat, while resonance intonator engages device-wielder in battle.

3\. Harmonic modulator works the tonal inverter controls to build a wave of sonic energy.

4\. When the tonal inverter reaches the proper pitch, harmonic modulator indicates the device is ready for discharge. For example, the harmonic modulator could shout: "Ready!"

5\. Resonance intonator pauses in combat long enough to discharge the tonal inverter. Note: This can be done from anywhere within a clear line of sight, as the tonal inverter has been configured to recognize and obey the resonance intonator from a remote position.

6\. Tonal inverter releases a charge that temporarily disrupts the energy emitted by Sotha Sil's modified device. The wielder of said device will become vulnerable to attack for a limited amount of time.

Final Words: Depending on the amount of energy already absorbed by the wielder of Sotha Sil's device, this procedure may need to be repeated multiple times, as the disruption and subsequent vulnerability is fleeting. Stick with it and everything should turn out fine. May the Great Gear whir and spin freely in your presence!


	57. Incarnate Aduri's Scroll

My ascension and fall both stem from my love of senseless war, which proved to be my undoing. I was never fit to become the Nerevarine.

To fulfill the prophecy, I followed a path of blood and war. In the end, my path became a road that led to nowhere and I was cast down from my lofty spot. War is not the way.


	58. Incarnate Danaat's Scroll

My sad tale teaches that the one who refuses wise counsel can never be the Nerevarine.

The Nerevarine must listen as well as proclaim. I refused to accept wise counsel of the Ashkhans and the Wise Women, which led to the doom of my tribe and the end of my quest to embody the spirit of Nerevar.

I thought I knew best, but I knew nothing. That is not the way of the Nerevarine.


	59. Incarnate Ranso's Scroll

My story is the tale of the lie of unbridled power.

I thought myself the reborn Nerevar, for I was the strongest, most powerful warrior in all of Vvardenfell. But power alone couldn't save my people. In the end, it couldn't even save me.

As a warrior and as an Ashkhan, I was the most powerful of my age. But for all my strength, I failed my people. I was not the Nerevarine.


	60. Instructions for Lothnarth

Lothnarth,

You need not interfere with the slaves. The guards I've hired will see that they remain productive and have food and rest when needed.  
I want accurate logs of production each week, so that I can see if my experiment helps the mine keep producing at optimal levels.  
No one should bother the crystal machine. I've locked it in place, to avoid some clumsy slave or mindless kwama knocking into it and interrupting its process.  
I may visit and turn off the machine, to do some comparison on production with and without the machine. I'll retrieve the switch and pieces that control it from my lab in Mzanchend and handle the process myself.  
I shouldn't need to warn anyone, but STAY OUT of Mzanchend. If you aren't a powerful magister, the chance of getting diced to pieces by automata is very high.


	61. Investigator Vale in Vvardenfell

"I didn't come all the way to Vvardenfell just to see the sights, councilor," Investigator Vale said as she examined the bust of Almalexia that sat atop Councilor Vobend's desk. "Although I must say I find your land and your people to be quite enticing."

"Then why are you here, Vale?" Councilor Vobend demanded, his tone indicating that he was out of patience with the woman from High Rock.

"Because I asked her to come, Father," said Velnea, the councilor's daughter, as she strode into the chamber. "I care about what happened to Master Adren, even if House Hlaalu would rather pretend that he never existed."

Vobend collapsed heavily into his chair, suddenly exhausted by the weight of his responsibilities. "We've been over this a hundred times, Velnea," Vobend sighed. "Master Adren died. It happens. Not every death hides a conspiracy or a murder."

Investigator Vale gave Velnea a dazzling smile before turning back to address her father. "I'll be the judge of that, my dear councilor," she said with evident excitement. "After all, it's what I do."

* * *  
Vale and Velnea walked side by side beneath the massive mushrooms that towered behind Master Adren's alchemy shop. The old alchemist had been Velnea's beloved mentor since she was a young girl, instructing her in the alchemical arts as well as encouraging other academic pursuits. There was a garden toward the back of the area, displaying a harvest of plants and flowers favored by alchemists. An easel was set up nearby, holding a canvas that showed the alchemist sitting beside his beloved garden. The painting was not quite finished.

"Adren always told me I could be anything I wanted to be," Velnea mused. "I didn't have to become a merchant or a trader if my father's life didn't appeal to me. He … encouraged me to … dream."

"Sounds like he was a wonderful person," Vale said cheerfully as she marveled at the nix-hound that wandered over to investigate the strange visitor. "And what is your dream, dear Velnea, if you don't mind me asking?"

Velnea blushed, hesitated, and stepped over to the unfinished painting. She said, "I want to be a painter. I love to draw, and Adren helped me develop my talent. Landscapes, portraits, still lifes … I've created quite a body of work and he said that each new painting was better than the last. I was in the middle of this one when …. I miss that old alchemist. A lot."

Vale bent down to examine the ground beneath one of the tree-like mushrooms. "And this is where you found the alchemist?" she asked.

Velnea shivered and clutched her arms tightly. "Yes. I came by to visit. When I couldn't find Adren inside his shop, I assumed he had come out here to read or tend to his garden. Instead, I found him lying there, face up and eyes open. I'll never forget the sight of him."

The investigator stood up and scanned the rest of the backyard. "You said nothing was missing? Hmm. According to your painting, one of the flowers has disappeared."

Velnea looked at the unfinished painting and saw the vibrant and exotic bloom rising from the patch beside the image of her mentor. Then she examined the garden and let out a squeak of surprise. "You're right! I can't believe I didn't notice that before! It's gone!"

"And if your depiction is accurate, the missing plant is a rare crimson dragonthorn," Vale said. "A much sought after plant when it comes to alchemy. And this discoloration on the stem of the mushroom. That indicates that the surface of the fungus interacted with a garlic snail and produced a plume of noxious gas. Quite toxic, as I understand it."

"A garlic snail? In Adren's garden? He was too good a gardener to allow such a pest to take root among his mushrooms," Velnea said.

"Then murder it is, my dear," Vale said. "Tell me, did Adren have any rivals among the local alchemists?"

* * *  
Investigator Vale entered Dirani's flower shop and walked confidently toward the older Dark Elf who was busy working on a floral arrangement that included flora and fungi. Following behind Vale were Velnea and a House Hlaalu soldier. Vale paused to sniff at the arrangement-in-progress before she stepped over to a large pot containing freshly turned soil. Sticking out of the soil was a crimson dragonthorn.

"Well, that's an extremely rare flower," Vale said, bending to examine the plant more closely. "And look. It has the same small yellow dots on the petals, just like in your painting, dear Velnea."

Dirani looked from Vale to the soldier and back again, clearly nervous and sweating uncomfortably. "What … what are you implying?" she eventually managed to stammer.

"I never imply," Vale said, placing her hand on a glass case sitting on the counter. The case contained a small colony of garlic snails. Vale tapped the side with one long, slender finger. "I'll say the words plainly. You murdered Master Adren so that you could acquire his prized crimson dragonthorn."

"That's … that's preposterous!" Dirani protested. Then she turned and ran out through the back of the flower shop. The Hlaalu soldier followed quickly after her.

"She's going to get away," said Velnea, disappointment evident in her sad voice.

"Nonsense, my dear," Vale said. "Your soldier seems more than capable of apprehending an old woman. Now what do you say? I'd love it if you'd paint my portrait. Tell me, how do you feel about nudes?"


	62. An "Invitation" to Discovery

Greetings, slaves!

Unlike my short-sighted Telvanni compatriots, I understand the true value of compulsory labor. Don't worry. I won't have you scraping eggs off a cavern floor like everyday drudges. Leave that to other, less talented drudges! No, my beshackled friends—by displaying basic reasoning skills and only a mild interest in talking trees, you've earned the right to aid the Telvanni in the glorious future of magical practice! Think of yourselves as explorers, dancing down the bleeding edge of arcane discovery! I'd be remiss if I didn't tell you that these exercises will be incredibly dangerous, but take solace in the fact that, as slaves, your objections wouldn't matter anyway. The burden of choice has been removed. Bully for you!

Our first experiment involves the application of highly corrosive spores to the skin. Don't worry. We won't just slather them on your scales like common hedge mages. We've managed to combine them with a potent stabilizing agent that could grant the user vastly enhanced stamina and improved resistance to heat! There is a chance (albeit a remote one) that even minor exertion could cause your lungs to spontaneously erupt in flame, but I'm counting on your bizarre lizard physiology to withstand the effects. (I am assuming you have lungs. I must remember to do a thorough search of the Argonian chest cavity at the next opportunity.) Volunteers will be richly compensated with reduced lashings and an extra portion of whatever gray slime your overseers make you eat.

Here's to the future that some of you might be lucky enough to see!

Most Sincerely,  
Birer Salen, Oathman of the Telvanni


	63. Invitation to Morrowind

Honored Friend, the most-revered and holy Vivec, Warrior-Poet of the Tribunal, has taken notice of your exploits and requests a meeting. Make your way to Morrowind and the great island of Vvardenfell as soon as you can. Look for me outside the town of Seyda Neen. I'll escort you to Vivec City and introduce you to our immortal god-king.

Captain Jenassa's ship to Seyda Neen leaves from Daggerfall, Davon's Watch, Vulkhel Guard, and other cities around Tamriel. Or you can take a boat from Mournhold, Wayrest, or Woodhearth to Vivec City.

Canon Llevule,  
Priest of the Tribunal,  
Aide to Archcanon Tarvus


	64. Journal of a Fallen Officer

It got the job done.

That's what I told myself after a tough call, after a hard assignment. It may not have been by the book, but hey, nothing ever is. Little things at first, things I thought I'd forget by the end of the week. A well-placed bribe here, a promise that my superiors would know nothing about. I kept slipping, and slipping, until I was telling myself that phrase every night. It got the job done.

And who could really question my goals? The House Redoran's Narcotics Oath-Bureau is one of the best forces for good Vvardenfell has to offer. What could be more noble? We were cleaning up Vvardenfell, one arrest at a time. Anyone who went undercover knew the stakes, and they knew that our superiors were more apt to look the other way if the results were to their liking. Maybe that was my first mistake. Thinking no one was looking.

The skooma ring I infiltrated was top priority. Skooma is nasty stuff, an opiate that causes hallucinations. Addictive, deadly, cheap, the drug's a powerful combination. Even the growth and sale of moon sugar is illegal on Vvardenfell's shores, for good reason. With such a high stakes case they decided to send their best officer, who at the time happened to be me.

When an officer infiltrates a skooma ring there are the expectations, and then there's the reality. They can't avoid certain habits. Bribes are commonplace, extortion as well. No one talks about torture when you're signing up, but it happens. Deaths come with a bit of paperwork, but hey, who's going to mourn a dealer? All of these you can learn to live with. It's what you eventually can't live without that eats you up.

It shouldn't be surprising that few skooma rings accept members who don't use the product, at least occasionally. There's no bigger red flag than turning down an offered pipe, and in my line of work even the smallest of suspicions can lead to a quiet death in some dark alley.

The case itself went off without a hitch. I did my usual reconnaissance, gained trust of those up top. Found out who was in charge and where trade was coming in. The case closed within three months, quicker than any other officer could have finished it. But not quick enough.

I admit, I was hooked. It was an itch I couldn't scratch, a thought I couldn't drown out. I started drinking, thinking that would numb the withdrawal. But drink simply washed away my resolve, and eventually I was searching for dealers for a whole different reason.

It was fine for a time. I was able to keep my dosages short, concealed my habit from those around me. It all fell apart when another officer brought in my dealer, and she was more than happy to talk. Not surprising, but I suppose addiction doesn't bring the clearest of mindsets.

I was told I was lucky to be stripped of my rank and not thrown behind bars, but I'm not one to lie down and accept my disgrace. I'm nothing if not resourceful. I've sobered up and smartened up, and now I'm on a new mission. I'll win back my honor if it's the last thing I do, no matter the means.


	65. Kwama Breeding Research Notes

Ash Yam: No effect. Kwama will eat it if they are peckish.

Bittergreen: No effect. Empty Bittergreen pods are attractive sitting locations for workers and scribs. I've seen warriors attempt to enter the pods when they obviously can't fit. Stupid bugs. Keep these out of the mine.

Black Anther: No effect on the kwama, and we have to send operatives near Vivec City to find it, which is risky. Suggested to cease testing.

Black Lichen: The kwama hate it. Use it only to keep them out of spaces we don't want them to be near, like our food stores.

Bungler's Bane: No effect and hard to find in reasonable supply.

Chokeweed: No effect.

Comberry: No effect and extremely hard to find in the wild. If we need more it's recommended to steal some from the merchants in Vivec City.

Corkbulb Root: Not the effect we are looking for, although it seems useful for treating kwama with any form of paralysis. Continued testing is recommended.

Draggle-tail: None in supply and it's not yet worth sending scouts to the Bitter Coast.

Fire Fern: Kwama love this stuff, while at the same time it appears to make them agitated. More research on this is recommended.

Gold Kanet: No effect.

Green Lichen: Can't find it anywhere. Every recommended location has so far turned out to be a dead end.

Hackle-Lo: No effect.

Heather: No effect.

Kresh Fiber: Kwama hate it, and not in the way we're interested in. They defecate on it as soon as it's discovered. Keep all supply out of Matus-Akin.

Luminous Russula: Grows naturally around the area and can be found in the mine as well. Kwama consume it often. No obvious effects on behavior.

Marshmerrow: No effect aside from potential feed.

Muck: Toxic to Kwama. DO NOT USE!

Nirnroot: Do not use on its own anywhere near the kwama. It appears to make them lethargic, yet they crave it once exposed. We had to put a few warriors down after the primary exposure. We don't want to lose any more, as there are not many of these beasts to begin with.

Red Lichen: No effect.

Roobrush: No effect.

Saltrice: Common kwama feed. We keep a supply of this in the storage area surrounded by a moderate amount of Black Lichen.

Scathecraw: No effect.

Slough Fern: No effect.

Stoneflower: Only found in the West Gash. Too risky to acquire. I speculate it will have no effect regardless.

Trama Root: No effect.

Violet Coprinus: We have found this growing naturally in Matus-Akin. Potential natural kwama feed. No effect.

Wickwheat: Makes kwama even stupider than they already are. More research needed.

Willow Flower: No effect.

Hypha Facia: Sometimes Found in Matus-Akin, no obvious effect.


	66. Letter to Councilor Dolvara

Councilor Dolvara,

The unfortunate events surrounding the demotion and subsequent banishment of Ulran Releth have left the High Council extremely disappointed. This isn't what we expected from the promising son of an old and respected family. Your report detailing Ulran's trial, while informative, did nothing to alleviate our concerns. In light of what occurred, the High Council requests a favor from you.

First, since you often operate in the Balmora region, we'd like you to monitor Councilor Eris's actions for the relative future. We have every faith in Councilor Eris, but Ulran is his son, after all. Add to that the disturbing news about his daughter and the Morag Tong, and you can see why we have concerns.

Second, since the promotion of Brivan Malrom to the rank of captain and commander of Redoran's western forces, we have received troubling reports of the unauthorized escalation of the use of mercenary companies, specifically Ferhara's Warclaws. Contract soldiers are expected to abide by all House laws and regulations, but Ferhara's mercenaries tend to deviate from standard practices on a frequent basis. We especially dislike hearing reports of excessive violence with regards to the treatment of Ashlanders. Harsh treatment, as you know, must always be authorized.

Use your connection and personal relationship with the Releth family to urge Councilor Eris to get his affairs in order. We'd appreciate it if the disquiet in Balmora settled down before the upcoming council meeting.

High Councilor Meriath


End file.
